Inheritance Trilogy Book Three: Empire
by Voldemort309
Summary: Continues from the end of Eldest. Eragon continues to grapple with his defeat and embarks on another quest to find his brothers wife, and himself. New Powers for Eragon and a final showdown with Murtagh and Galbatorix. The adventure of a lifetime!
1. A Rider's troubles

**Inheritance**

Book Three: Empire

Night had finally fallen on the Burning Plains, enshrouding everything in darkness and obliterating the atrocities that had been committed by both sides that day where the winds of fate had finally turned. The Varden had emerged successful and, with the aid of the dwarven reinforcements, destroyed the vast army of King Galbatorix.

However, there prevailed a general feeling of grief around the camp. The Varden had pulled through despite being severely outnumbered but that did nothing to quell the sadness that lingered throughout the camp; the kind of wretchedness that forced men to their knees, tears wetting the parched grounds, the battle had severely diminished the Varden's numbers and death hung over the camp like a black thundercloud forcing everyone into a gloomy silence. The only sound that could be heard was the deep, melancholic requiem that reverberated through the camp. The lament of the dwarves as they lost their beloved King wound its way deep into hearts of the warriors, reminding them of their own losses.

As the night wore on, the camp fires slowly began to extinguish, the soldiers finally succumbing to their weariness and retiring to their bunks in the hope that a few hours rest might somehow quell the pain that they had endured. Soon, only one lone fire remained in the Varden camp.

Eragon watched the fire flicker slightly as a gust of wind passed through the camp. Next to him, his brother Roran slept, leaving Eragon to ponder on the battle yesterday and while he was glad that they had won; he remembered his own bitter defeat. _All these men rest their hopes on me. They expect me to be the one to face Galbatorix and win. How can I? My prowess as a Rider was shown to me yesterday. Even with all the training and my new powers, I was unable to defeat Morzan's son. _

Eragon decided to refrain from calling him Murtagh for that had been the name of his friend who had accompanied him to Surda, who had saved his life and acknowledging that this was the same friend who now served the evil King pained him far more than all the wounds he had received that day.

_My brother. _

Eragon witnessed that scene in his head over and over again, remembering those shattering words. _No. Roran is my brother and my only task now is to stop grieving and help him rescue Katrina from the Ra'zac. _A grim determination replaced the hopelessness that had previously engulfed the young rider. He had failed that day but that did not mean that he had to fail the next day. He would get Katrina back for Roran then he would head back to Ellesméra and finish his training. Perhaps if the elves knew of his defeat at the hands of Morzan's heir, they might permit him to delve into those magics that they themselves feared to acknowledge, let alone use. Eragon gripped at his side, hoping to feel the familiar texture of Za'rocs wire-bound hilt but when his hand grasped only air, Eragon was forced to remind himself of another loss he had endured that day.

_Misery. A fitting name for that accursed blade for that is all it has caused. A Rider without a sword, defeated in battle by one he had considered his friend. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! _Eragon barked a humourless laugh at his own pitiful state. Saphira, awoken by the sound, fixed him with one of her shining, omniscient eyes.

_You sit there exhausted, little one and yet you continue to torture yourself over something you could not help instead of letting yourself get some rest so that you can do something where you can help. Get your energy back Eragon so that tomorrow we can embark on another foolhardy adventure to get your brothers woman back from the nest of the Ra'zac. You will have your chance with Murtagh someday but that day is not today so let it go. I am as much shamed as you are for we were both defeated. Let it go Shadeslayer and sleep._

Eragon agreed, as always thankful for Saphira's comforting presence. "Brisingr Astyär_" _murmured Eragon, extinguishing the fire with magic. Slowly, his muscles still sore from the battle, Eragon made his way to his own bunk and collapsed, sleep overcoming him within minutes.

That night, Eragon was beset with nightmares of Murtagh's red dragon mocking him from afar; laughing at his own inadequacy. This was replaced by Elva staring at him with her ancient, violet eyes, penetrating him until he felt his very soul was laid bare.

_You made me what I am Argetlam and be it gift or curse, let this be my repayment to you o mighty Shadeslayer. Another loss awaits you as you tread down this path and the manner in which you deal with this loss will surely affect the outcome of this entire world. Protect those you love for it is their protection that will surely save you from those paths you should not face. Know this and know this well, Ardor Vebelis Kuthian awaits you and should you choose to walk away when the time comes, you will end up facing the same destiny as He did. This is my warning to you and Eragon and be it gift or curse, heed it well. Fare thee well Era-_

"-gon, Eragon!" wake up you damned fool! Eragon was shaken awake by his brother Roran. As Eragon focused on the world around him, he noticed a mad gleam in his brother's eye. "You promised me Shadeslayer and I hold you to it. It is time to absolve yourself. Ever second wasted is another second my wife must face with those awful creatures. Come brother. Let us make haste. The pits of hell wait for no man!"

Eragon nodded. His destiny had been made clear to him now.


	2. Dark Reckoning

_Power! Unlimited, endless power!_ Murtagh, son of Morzan, first of the new Forsworn could not help letting out a loud cry of mirth as he flew over the Hadarac desert on his dragon, Thorn. The very power that he had so feared before his rebirth now defined and shaped his very existence. Murtagh closed his eyes as he touched his magic once more. He felt the power course through his veins, filling him to the very tips of his fingers. Rather than unleash it on the world below, Murtagh held onto it, basking in an ocean of his own potential. Then, a flitting image of Eragon ran through his mind and his grasp on his magic fled him, making him feel empty. 

_Once a friend and ally, now we find ourselves on opposite sides of the field as enemies. _Murtagh did not know what to make of the conflicting emotions that fought a fierce battle for control in his mind. Eragon was right, no matter how much he tried to deny it; Murtagh had become his father.

_No Murtagh. You let your emotions and feelings for that whelp cloud your judgment. The only difference between you and Eragon is that while he chooses to let himself be manipulated, you revel in your freedom and do what you do to achieve the ultimate goal: Power, great power and there lies nothing wrong in dreaming for great things. Acceptance and compromise, these are fine for mere humans but you know as well as I that now you are so much more than just a human. You are Murtagh, the Dark Rider, first of a new band of Forsworn, more powerful than anyone could EVER have imagined! Do not live to kill my friend, kill to live. You are more worthy of being named Rider than anyone alive._

Murtagh took solace in Thorn's words. Though they had only shared a bond for a few short months, Murtagh felt that Thorn completed him and she was as much a part of him as he was of her. They were not evil nor were they power-mad like King Galbatorix, rather, they knew where their path lay and exactly what they had to do to ensure that they did not stray from that path. They would have to face Eragon and Saphira again and this time, they would grant no mercy.

_The door swung open with a loud crash. Murtagh looked up from his exercises to see the huge frame of his father silhouetted in the doorway. Morzan stumbled in, clearly drunk yet this did nothing to diminish the fear that gripped Murtagh's heart as he witnessed his father entering the house. The young three year old Murtagh, knowing that his father despised fear more than anything, turned around and looked up at the man who had sired him. "I greet you my Lord. I hope that you found success in your endeavors today" murmured Murtagh, bowing low in reverence. Morzan fixed his son with a piercing glare, his dark eyes scrutinizing the boy before him. Suddenly, Morzan lifted his arm and backhanded his son, causing him to fly across the room and crash into the opposite wall, his cheek tearing in the process. Murtagh tried to restrain the tears that were threatening to expose themselves as he clasped his bleeding face. Morzan surveyed his son, tilting his head, a slight smirk forming on his lips. "And a good day to you son. I see you have been continuing with your lessons. Good, good. Now for a true lesson, one that you will NEVER forget. Come son; let me give you a lesson in pain!" Morzan slowly advanced towards his heir, a menacing glint in his eyes. "Such a bright boy; so intelligent and willing to learn! Come my son; know the true meaning of pain!" Murtagh crept backwards slowly until his back met with the wall. Unable to control the fear that threatened to paralyze him, Murtagh turned around and ran as fast as he could, determined to escape the madness that held this household in its grip. Murtagh had not made it more than a few yards when he heard his father give an ear-wrenching shriek. He heard the sound of a sword sliding out of its sheath. Murtagh continued to run and just as he thought he would make it, a terrible pain exploded in his back and he fell to the ground, blackness taking him. The last sound he heard was that of his father's high-pitched laugh echoing in the darkness._

Murtagh awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. He and Thorn had made camp somewhere in the vast expanse of nothing that was the Hadarac desert. Ever since Galbatorix had twisted the young warrior to his will, Murtagh could not escape the reoccurring nightmares that deprived him of sleep almost every night. He watched the dying embers of last nights fire, watching their glow slowly diminish until he was in darkness once more.

_You seem troubled Murtagh. I have been watching you as we draw closer to Urû'baen. You are scared, of Galbatorix, of whom you have become and who you will be. I am here friend. Together, we can overcome whatever difficulties torment you and dive headfirst into our destiny. _Thorn nudged him with her snout, the wisdom of her words slowly washing over him. _You are right Thorn. As of late, I have been an insufferable fool. This is who I am now and regretting my decisions only serves to compromise what we were put on this earth to do; rule._

Murtagh had always been ambitious but his own mortality had prevented him from grasping the power that he knew was his by divine right. As he became more acquainted with his new powers, Murtagh slowly began to realize that if he persevered, he would be unstoppable. Age was starting to catch up with Galbatorix. His powers, while still great, were beginning to wane and Murtagh new that it was only a matter of time before his own powers surpassed the King's. He drew Zar'roc slowly and stared at the blade that had haunted his dreams for so long. The red blade caught the moonlight causing it to shine, an iridescent jewel so beautiful, that one could almost forget the source and destiny of the evil sword. Murtagh beheld the blade for a while, gazing at its dark beauty.

_With this sword in my hand and you by my side Thorn, we will be invincible; a terrible scourge on our enemies! Together, we can rebuild this tattered world into an empire worthy of a bard's tale!_

Basking in the ecstasy of things to come, Murtagh reached for his magic, feeling the warmth spread through him. Suddenly, he stood upright.

_Something approaches. Be wary Thorn. It possesses an extraordinary intelligence yet it does not seem to be human._

Thorn responded with a low growl, a short burst of flame escaping her nostrils. Murtagh held the magic at bay, ready to unleash it at a moments notice. He drew Zar'roc; preparing himself for the attack he knew would surely come.

A lone figure appeared 100 yards standing on top of a sand dune. Murtagh couldn't make out his face for he wore a long grey cloak and hood that obscured his features.

_Great power emanates from this being Murtagh but I cannot sense its intentions. Be on your guard but do not attack. It may be a friend._

Murtagh agreed and waited for the mysterious being to arrive. As he drew closer to their campsite, Murtagh began to notice small details about the man. He seemed old for he walked slowly and with a slight limp, he carried a wooden staff and from his eyes, that Murtagh could feel watching him through his cowl, Murtagh could see all the knowledge in the world. Soon, the mysterious being stood a few feet from Murtagh and Thorn and with a flick of his hand sent Zar'roc flying several yard away. Murtagh bellowed in rage and unleashed every deadly magic taught to him by Galbatorix as Thorn unleashed a mighty tongue of red flame towards the man.

Nothing happened. The magic and the fire seemed to disappear and the man came through unscathed. Then, the old man spoke and that voice filled Murtagh with a sense of dread the like of which he had never felt before;

"You could keep at it all night you fool but that would get us nowhere. You will desist now or pay for your idiocy. My name is Kuthian and I am a wanderer of the Grey Folk." With that, the man removed his hood causing both Murtagh and Thorn to gasp

The man looked to be in his 70's yet there was a wisdom about him that bespoke an intellect that had had millennia to develop. He had long white hair that fell to his shoulders and a short white beard flecked with grey. The thing that drew Murtagh and Thorn were his eyes.

_His eyes have no colour. Where my eyes are brown, his are white. I would guess him to be blind but somehow I know that is not the case. There is something about this man._

"I come here now, in your greatest hour of need with a warning and advice. The Grey Folk made this world what it is and will not see its true destiny go up in flames. Long, have we watched and manipulated the very fabric of time"

_Murtagh, the Grey Folk discovered the ancient language. They created magic. But it is well known that the Grey Folk died out thousands of years ago._

To Murtagh and Thorn's surprise, Kuthian responded, seemingly amused by her observation.

"You are right, mighty scaled one. We did discover the ancient language and can manipulate it like no being ever could, be it human or elf. After we combined our power to bring about the ancient language, the Mages council decided that unless we wished to see the world destroy itself once more, we must seek to control the very passage of time and arrive at crucial moments and force crucial characters to make the truthful choice. We arrived during the war between the elves and the dragons, forcing them to seal a truce and create the first Dragon Riders and now we arrive again. Ultimately, it is your choice that decides the fate of this world Murtagh, son of Morzan."

Murtagh fixed the man with a sneer and said "Listen old man; if you've come to chastise me for fighting alongside Galbatorix then you waste your time. Your words mean nothing to me."

The man just laughed, seeming unperturbed by Murtaghs outburst. "So young and arrogant and like all humans, oblivious to the power of words. Notice I did not say _right_ choice but _truthful_ choice. The choice you make now is based on a number of untruths and you charge headfirst into a war you know nothing about. Should the truth be that you were destined to fight with Galbatorix, then so be it. There is no higher force than truth and the Grey Folk have strived over millennia to preserve it."

"Then tell me the truth old man." Scoffed Murtagh

"Ah, but truth is not to be found young man, it is to be discovered. There lies a place; far to the west in the abode you call the spine called the Vault of Souls. It is there that you will find the truth. I will find you there to guide you."

_The Vault of Souls. Something about that name sends shivers down my spine Murtagh. The Dragon magic in me tingles._

Murtagh took heed of Thorn's words and responded: "Very well old man. I will search for you truth, but know this: I chose this path and nothing can change that. You're wasting your time."

Kuthian just laughed "Be that as it may Murtagh, you _will_ let truth guide you. Now, there is one more obstacle you must face before the Vault of Souls opens for you. You must know yourself Oh mighty Dark Rider. Deep in Du Weldenvarden lies another wanderer of the Grey Folk. Go to her for she knows you better than you know yourself. Your instincts will guide you to her."

"So, I should wander deep into enemy territory just to find some old hag? How can she know me better than I know myself?" laughed Murtagh.

"Because, young one, her name is Selena and she is your mother."

* * *

For the first time since Murtagh had turned to his side, King Galbatorix was pleased. He looked down from his dark throne at his newest servant.

After the death of Durza, Galbatorix had sought to create something more than just a mere Shade. They were powerful yet still vulnerable. Durza's death at the hands of the young Rider served as a testament to this.

So, employing the same dark magic that he had used to create Shruikan, Galbatorix strived to create a new breed of Shade. One that could move even faster, wield greater magic and was not susceptible to the same mortal wounds. However, the process proved to be more difficult than the King expected.

_Dark Magic fuses with nothing! Countless failed experiments and no results! There must be something, something that can create an evil creature of great power. It all begins with magic. _

Then it came to him. Magic was the key and to create a new dark creature, he needed to bond a Shade's magic with another type of magic; that of an elf.

"Bring Evandar to me." he beckoned to one of his guards

Evandar, once King of the Elves, stood before him now, a tattered wreck. After rotting in Galbatorix's cells for several centuries, the elf had become worn and thin. His once noble visage was hollow and beset with numerous wrinkles. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and the flaming red hair that once charmed thousands had turned white with age. The only remnant of his royal past lay in his eyes. They burned with a raw power that would make any lesser man flinch. The elf had indeed been defiant to the last.

"Ah, King Evandar. I trust you find your accommodations suitable? It appears that keeping you here will finally have its uses," laughed the evil King.

"You are as foolish as you are arrogant, _King._ Your time is soon to end. The birds speak of the defeat your army faced at Du Völlar Eldrvarya," said Evandar, a smirk appearing on his lips.

Galbatorix continued to laugh, a high-pitched sound that echoed through the halls, striking fear into the hearts of all who heard. Then, without warning, Galbatorix lashed out with his magic, causing the elf to crumble before him, falling to his knees. "Your magic will serve me well, King of Elves. Very well indeed"

The Elf's screams continued long into the night. When morning came, the Elf was no more"

Before him now stood Mendra'kar, first of a new breed of Dark creatures; a perverted cross between a Shade and an Elf, the creature stood over seven feet tall and had the features of an elf however, its eyes were a deep red colour flecked with violet that spoke of pure malice every time it blinked. It had two sets of sharp pointy teeth so that, whenever the creature smiled its malevolent smile, it lost any resemblance to an elf and became a creature of the night, twisted and evil. It wore a long black cloak that billowed around its ankles. From the sleeves protruded two hands clad in black, spiked gauntlets that looked as if they could crush a man's skull with no effort. Only one word could describe such a terrifying creature: Fear.

"Your bidding, my King?" It asked in a low voice, a sibilant sound that spoke of evil with every breath.

"You will scour Alagaësia for one named Murtagh. He rides a Dragon called Thorn. Find him and bring him to me. The seeds of betrayal have been planted in his mind, I sense it. If he resists, kill him."

"It will be as you say master"

And with a swish of its cloak, the creature was gone.

* * *

Murtagh gave an involuntary shudder._ Something has changed. _

_Aye, a new force enters the world today though I cannot see for which side it fights. We must be careful._ Warned Thorn, reflecting exactly what Murtagh was feeling.

It had been two nights since they left Kuthian in the Hadarac desert and the feeling of impending doom had not yet left them. Murtagh and Thorn had set up camp on the foothills of Mount Marna, located near the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden.

Heeding Kuthian's advice was dangerous for the both of them for it meant going directly against Galbatorix's orders. The man could kill both of them with a few phrases in the ancient language and yet he stalled. Something wasn't right.

_Right now, all I want are answers. We'll worry about Galbatorix and the Varden later._

Murtagh agreed and, in a solemn mood, they set off towards Du Weldenvarden, the Elven abode looming in the distance. Suddenly, Thorn's ears twitched.

_Something comes this way and it means us harm._


	3. Deadly experience

At that moment Mendra'kar, arrived. Murtagh and Thorn were silenced. There was evil in the air and a hunger of power. Murtagh was about to attack but Mendra'kar had sensed the attack.

Eragon and Saphira were enjoying the flight, as it had been time since they could have a ride without the need to be in apparent danger. They still remained alert for Murtagh could attack them at any moment. Rohan however seemed sick and green in the face. Nearing the Raz'ac's layer was a filthy stench. Eragon saw filthy human bones with no flesh on them on the ground. He gave an evolutionary shudder, and Rohan's worried look shocked him.

"If this is what they did to her.."

He clenched his fists. Eragon was silently relieved that he was on the same side as his brother- ' No, Murtagh is my brother. Thinking about it still caused him pain. He was also hurt about Zarroc; he had to borrow a sword from a dwarf who quite willingly lent it to him. Rohan had chosen an axe. Saphira refused to wear battle equipment so they could get there faster. _We will be landing now, little one._ Eragon told this to Rohan, who finally showed enthusiasm. Saphira landed smoothly. It was decided that Eragon and Rohan go search for Katrina, fight the Raz'ac if they needed to. Saphira remained outside the gate. Eragon saw Katrina, her head tied to a chainpost. With one swipe of the sword he cut the rope and Rohan took her to Saphira. Eragon had some unfinished business to settle with Raz'ac. No sooner had he thought of this, Raz'ac attempted to attack him. Eragon let loose hatred and said a word making Raz'ac die instantly, and tire him out completely. He checked Katrina's wounds, but they were beyond his knowledge to heal. Saphira flew quicker this time, with Katrina's on the verge of death. They almost reached Du Weldenwarden before Thorn flew out of nowhere, followed by another sinister creature. He scarcely saw Murtagh.

"Rohan run, take Katrina"

As they disappeared in to Ellesmera, Eragon joined the fight but as a spectator. He saw Murtagh fall and the creature chase after. Murtagh and Eragon briefly glanced at each other and started attacking the creature. It was of no use. When all hope was lost, Eragon heard some strange mysterious voice.

"er rzods"

It was a voice full of power and the creature flew away. The strange voice came from

the same man, who had met Murtagh before.

"Follow me, Murtagh , first son of Morzan"

Murtagh flew off in fright while Eragon was intrigued. It was weird. He had seen three living beasts, humans, … and all were stronger than him. Surely the elves could train him like that?

He mentioned it to Arya at Ellesmera. Without looking in his eyes,

"We know someone who has four of the seven magic scrolls, Galbatorix as the other three. It is full of Dark Magic, but powerful. He is Du kiadf. We don't like mentioning him, he betrayed the elves by learning such dark magic, but were it not for him Ellesmera would not be half as strong. Nor would Du Weldenwarden."

Eragon was showed to his quarters, and before falling asleep, he thought of Du kiadf. _Sleep little one, we shall seek him tomorrow. _ That night Eragon had a strange dream. It was about himself holding a green sword, power flying into the sword. Then he looked at Arya in his dreams and next minute he was wide-awake. He shaved and went of to see Oromis.

"Oromis" he called.

An ancient dragon rider came out of the hut.

"Your power has increased, Shadeslayer."

"I need to find Du Kiadf"

Oromis looked shocked


End file.
